


At one with the unnatural!

by millygal



Series: Zombies SUCK [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 04:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11005650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Zombies are a tad more irksome than ants or wasps.





	At one with the unnatural!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpankedbySpike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpankedbySpike/gifts).



> Silliness. spankedbyspike put up a huge list of prompts she'd worked out for herself, and then told us we could play with them if we liked. I picked, "Do Zombies count as wildlife?" Ahahaha Zombies! I wrote zombies! I NEVER write Zombies! Thanks also to jj1564 not only for the beta but also one of the lines in the fic! <3

Typical, abso-fucking-lutely typical.

Dean grunts and ducks, narrowly avoiding becoming some undead dude’s dinner. “Come for a picnic, he said, it’ll be fun, he said. Romantic, calming, relaxing, the chance to be at one with the great outdoors. Food, beer and just _us_. Nice idea, Sammy. So, did you order the Zombie Apocalypse as a palate cleanser and do zombies _count_ as wildlife?”

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother before squealing and leaping backwards, away from the snapping drool coated teeth of an almost headless zombie who’s taken quite a shine to Sam’s long legs. “Dean - shut up - and watch OUT!”

As Sam pulls off an impressive round-house, fully decapitating the slathering zombie who’s one remaining eye lights up every time he looks at Sam’s left flank, Dean pumps his legs and runs as fast as he can behind a giant boulder. “Sam, Bro, any chance we have some zombie killin’ - anything - in the trunk?”

Putting his head down and barreling through the rapidly amassing line of stumbling and moaning bodies all intent on taking a serious chunk out of the Winchesters, Sam breaks through the rank and file and ducks behind Dean’s boulder. “Not a fucking clue. What kills zombies, other than decapitation, a shot to the head or nailing them back into their graves?”

Dean racks his brains for any other solid lore from the oodles of crap they dug up when they were dealing with Angela and comes up empty. “I’m thinkin’ the grave thing is out, unless you reckon they came with toe tags and directions to where they were buried!”

The sound of twenty hungry undead men and women - all groaning and slathering at the idea of tasty fresh brains - gets louder as they slowly turn on their heels and move as one shuddering wall of grossness. “Dean, I think if we’re quick we can outrun them, maybe we could use the Impala to - “

Dean’s horrified glare almost peels Sam’s skin from his bones. “NO! We are not sacrificing my Baby’s paintwork just to re-kill a bunch of dead things.”

Sam grips Dean’s shoulders and shakes him, hard. “ _Dean_ , now is **not** the time to get all territorial over your precious fucking car!”

“But I just detailed her. Sammy, don’t make me, please.”

The look of desolation on Dean’s face would be cute as hell if they weren’t surrounded by grasping, grabbing reanimated corpses. “Dean, I’ll pay for any repairs, but we gotta move, NOW!”

Sighing and grinding his teeth together hard enough to chip a back tooth, Dean takes a deep breath and nods at Sam. “On three?”

Sam winds his arm beneath Dean’s, creating a wall of flesh they can use to clothes line the zombies crowding in on them. “On three.”

Sam crouches, dragging Dean’s shoulders level with his. “One.”

Dean growls at the drool encrusted jaws all snapping in their direction. “Two.”

“THREE!” Sam and Dean take off at speed, ploughing forward as one solid mass of royally fucked off Hunter.

For every shin kick and rib jab Dean lands he verbally bashes the bodies now folding beneath his feet. “Fuckin’ ruin my goddamned picnic, will you? You bunch of ugly motherfuckin’ undead bastards!”

Sam, still clinging onto Dean’s arm, pulls off a few well placed punches but mainly just watches his brother rain holy hell down on the creatures trying to eat them. Dean is nothing if not impressive when pissed off. “Uh, Dean, car?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’”

Finally they manage to create a hole big enough to run through where a blessedly unlocked Impala is waiting for them. “Sammy, haul ass, they’re gainin’ on us.”

Sam lets go of Dean’s arm and slides over the bonnet of the car, landing heavily on his ankle and shouting out in agony. “FUCK!”

“Oh, it’s on now. They can fuck with my down time, they can try and eat me, but now I’ve got buckle marks on the bonnet of my damned car and a brother with a broken ankle. You lot are TOAST!”

Throwing himself behind Baby’s wheel, Dean waits for Sam to drag himself inside the car and slam the door before gunning her engine. Getting a head of steam up, allowing the wheels to spit mud and crap all across their now decimated picnic remains, Dean lets the clutch off and drives forward. “DIE BASTARDS. DIE!”

Her grille ends up bent and buckled and hanging off with parts of zombie still twitching in between the chrome struts, but Dean doesn’t care, he yanks the handbrake and forces her into a doughnut, taking out the remaining few undead fuckers still standing.

Grinding their bodies into the mud, Dean finally lets off the gas and heaves for breath. “Dude, you okay?”

Sam’s eyes are rolling in his skull and he thinks he might vomit from pain and motion sickness. “Rage induced car sickness and a busted ankle, but other than that, I’m in one piece. You?”

Dean reaches down and tenderly runs his fingers along Sam’s already swollen ankle, before peering over the dashboard at the twitching oozing mass of body parts lying beneath the Impala’s wheels. “I’m fine. Mentally doing the math that goes with you buyin’ me a new grille and a respray, other than that it’s all good.”

Sam snorts and shakes his head then winces in pain. His ankle is throbbing and he’s not above admitting he might pass out. “Remind me next time I suggest going for a romantic picnic, zombies are a little more irksome than ants and wasps, yeah?”

Dean chuckles and gently lays Sam’s leg across his lap then throws the car in reverse. “Deal. Maybe we should stick to a lack of clothes and the Bunker, what do you think?”

Sam leans heavily against the passenger door and tips Dean a salute before slurring at him as blackness claim him. “Bring the camera and we’ve got a deal.”

 

 

Fin.


End file.
